Best Part of Believe is the Lie
by loyal.sleepless
Summary: A handsome smirk can't conceal the pain that fame brings. Cars? Girls? Magic? None of it even comes close to making up for the angst concealed behind chesire grins and mirrored lenses. Criss Angel; M for a reason
1. Disenchanted

1. Disenchanted

I put a hand on my damn-near bare hip and frowned at the magician across from me. Cute, but annoying. Maddeningly so. Currently, he was grinning at me, brown eyes flashing through a tangle of dark brownish, almost black hair that lay limp across his forehead. He has it volumized on camera. He was panting a little and so was I, but it was probably more embarrassing for me.

I turned to the co-director of the whole thing, Michael. "Why do I have to do it in costume and Criss doesn't?" I whined, indicating my silver taffeta and black crepe silk encased body. Well, somewhat encased. I guess. It was an outfit designed by the guy across from me, who had gone over to a sideline to slug back an entire bottle of water in one go. He smirked at me sadistically.

"Because I said so, Monica." I sighed and tugged the skirt part down a little, hoping to cover up my legs a bit. It _could have been _a decent outfit; if not for the fact it covered about half my butt and was cut down near my belly button. It was a fairy dress, said Criss, and it did indeed remind me of a fairy. But in Vegas heat, it felt like torture. The stockings were good quality, though, and clung while allowing me to breathe. They were black, like the bodice and overskirt, except for the silver stripes. I had a puffy renaissance-style undershirt made of some sort of silver, silky fabric and a leather corset with a slashed taffeta overskirt. The under part was one part netting, one part taffeta, three parts idiocy. It was comfortable to move in, but Criss kept staring at me at odd moments, making it hard to concentrate.

"Mike, this isn't fair…" He shrugged and Criss grinned. We'd been practicing for about an hour, now, and he'd taken his shirt off as soon as he walked in. He was drenched in sweat, and he poured about half of another bottle of water over himself, shaking his head and moaning softly. I glared. He'd managed to plaster all of his hair flat to his perfect Greek features. The water had been cold, apparently, because his skin tightened up.

"Like what ya see, Nica?" He asked, gesturing to his chest. I sighed and turned around. There was silence for a few seconds, then a sigh from Criss. "Go ahead and get dressed back up in the green room. We should talk. I'll be in in a few." I nodded and headed out to the dressing room.

I'm not quite sure what you're gathering from all of this – what you see between me and Criss. We're friends, but…everyone is friends with Criss. He's a likeable guy. He's overly sweet and easy to talk to and a dork, at least, off set. Onstage, he has an amazing presence and persona, too, and that side of Criss is…hot. But that's the only time I like him like that.

I'm sort of…a stagehand? No…I guess an assistant in his show, Believe. I play an unnamed character, someone who sort of fades in and out of the background. Criss seemed to like me well enough, but I just wasn't the best dancer in the world. He'll do that. Just take a liking to a random person.

I went back to the dressing room and pulled the bodice off, grabbing my bra and tee shirt. I stripped the skirt and stockings off in one motion, hanging them to be dry-cleaned for me and pulled a pair of jeans on, followed seconds later by a black, sleeveless, strapless corset made of black velvet.

After that, I got to the task of wiping off my stage make-up. I hate the crap they plaster all over my face; pancake make-up in shades of grey and silver to make a mask and make me unnoticeable.

I ran my hands back over my hair and glanced in the mirror. Hmm, Criss wasn't here yet…I reached into my pocket and checked my messages. Yup. Four from Eric, just like I'd thought. I checked them, scrolling through slowly. Each was gently loving and more than a bit possessive. I smiled and texted him back, but before I could send, he called me. I grinned and answered.

"Hey, Sexy…"I purred, turning back to the mirror and removing the ridiculous amount of stage-makeup Criss had had put on me.

"Hello, gorgeous. Practice over?"

"Yep. Whatcha up to?" I laughed inwardly, knowing the answer he'd give…

"About seven and a half inches. Damn, I hate not living closer to you…" I giggled and squirmed, shifting my hips in their sheath of denim. I miss Eric. Constantly. But he hates loud noises, big cities, and hot weather…in short, Las Vegas.

"Oh, really…and what if I said I know a very good way to get rid of that problem?" I murmured into the phone, pulling the clips out of my hair so that it fell in a jet black and ultra-violet purple striped wave down to the middle of my back. My hair is _interesting_, not _boring_ like Criss's.

"Hmmm…If you were here, then it wouldn't be a problem…" I laughed again and shook my hair out, shivering at the sound of his voice…deep, with just the slightest hint of his London accent.

"If I was there…" I began…

"Then you wouldn't be on the phone instead of waiting for me to get back here and brief you." Criss was standing in the doorway, still shirtless, still in jeans. I glared.

"Call you back later, baby," I muttered sullenly and slid the phone shut. I crossed my arms and looked in the mirror at Criss. "Yes?" He glowered at my mutinous tone.

"The show will be starting in about two weeks; I was wondering if you'd be okay as part of the touring troupe or if you want to stay just a part of the regular cast." His voice was flat, disappointed. I blinked. Touring? No one had said anything about that…

"Yeah, I'd like that. A lot. Is there any more you can tell me about it?" He nodded and leaned easily against the counter while I took my make-up off.

"Well, we'd be doing short tours – nothing too far away, just a little ways off and maybe some stuff in New York or something… you'd have more than one role; one for the standard show and one for the troupe. Oh, and it'd be a better role. A named one." I was straightening my hair, watching him curiously.

"Sounds…good. Where would we be going?"

"Like I said, New York, maybe California…I'm not sure. It's only an idea. Actually….why don't you sleep on it? I'll give you my personal cell, and you can let me know what you think in the morning." I blinked. Right. Just an idea. Criss's 'just an ideas' have a way of coming true very quickly. "Of course, if that makes you uncomfortable, I understand..."

I shrugged, straightening my bangs over my forehead. "Actually, I'm not too terribly averse to the idea. In fact, I really think I'd like to." He looked over at me. He'd been fidgeting the whole time, playing with the hole in the knee of his jeans and doodling on the thigh with eyeliner someone had left out. Maybe him. He finished up a tiny drawing of a cat and blinked at me.

"You mean you think you'd actually like…" Mike came back into the room, handing Criss his cell phone. Criss took the call, immediately becoming businessy. I sighed and gathered all of my stuff up, but he made little motions that begged me to stay. I sighed and sat down on one of the chairs to text Eric, who had been texting me and freaking out on an almost minutely basis. I could feel Criss watching me, though he kept on talking to whoever he was talking to about matters that didn't concern me. I shrugged off the feeling and got Eric calmed down, letting him know that I'd just been talking to Criss. He relaxed and we texted back and forth for a while.

Criss snapped his phone shut and I looked up from a description Eric had sent of some lingerie he was trying to get me to buy. Criss was stretching and getting down from the counter, looking like a tired lion. He sighed in an exasperated sort of way. I stood, raising an eyebrow and stowing my phone before he could get the idea of going through my text messages again.

"Just some people from Planet Hollywood, wanting me to make more appearances," he explained. I nodded. Criss has to do a lot of public appearances. I guess it helps his PR or something. His PR is _still _trying to recover from this beard he grew a while back, and…yeah, it's pretty odd.

"So you think you'd like to?" Criss asked, yanking me roughly out of my reverie. I blinked, trying to remember what he'd asked. He smirked, an eyebrow raising and the corner of his mouth quirking ironically. "The 'on the move' group?"

"Oh. Right. Yeah, I think I'd like that. So what's the plan for it? Is there a specific meeting I need to go to or anything?" He shook his head. That's a lot like Criss. He doesn't like to do a lot of scheduled things when he can get away from it. He barely follows schedules, anyways.

"Oh, okay. So I just…what, call you about it later?" He nodded and handed me his phone.

"Trade me. I'll put my number in yours, and you give me your number too." I nodded, clearing out my message history as I handed it to him. "Oh, I feel trusted…" He muttered. He pressed some buttons and I put my number in his phone, as 'Nica,' Criss's nickname for me. He handed my phone back, patiently watching me put my number in his.

"Here." I handed it back to him and he nodded, snapping it shut. Criss gave me a sweaty hug and a kiss on the cheek, five o'clock shadow brushing against my cheek. I squeaked and headed back to the back of the warehouse as I set off for home.

My house is pretty nice, if small. It's a little apartment, just off the strip, on the lower part of Paradise. I walked into the house, cracking the door, and whistled for Alice, my kitty. She came wandering in lazily, twining around the doorframe.

"C'mere, cutie…" I picked her up, dropping my clothes to the ground next to the door. Alice walked over, tilting her little cream colored head and meowing quietly. A couple of months back; I'd been walking home from a theatre and found a small, meowing box in an alley. There had been two kittens, and my cousin Elena had the other one, Trina. Alice crawled into my lap, licking my thumb and fingers with her little pink tongue. I laughed and stroked a hand over her soft, silky fur. She started to purr like a little tiny motorboat, meowing quietly from time to time. I picked her up with me, carrying her into the kitchen in the crook of my arm, and set her down on the counter. She stretched, nails scraping slightly on the Formica. I grabbed a tin of tuna out of the cupboard, pouring the juice on top of Alice's food and eating the drained tuna out of the can with a fork. Alice wolfed hers down, purring and meowing contently.

My phone buzzed against my hip and I pulled it out of my pocket, checking the text.

**Hey nica you there?**

I nodded, smiling. Wow, Criss didn't fool around in making sure he had the right number.

**Yeah, boss. What's up?**

I grabbed a Coke out of the fridge and popped the top, listening for my phone and considering a bath. Alice walked over and delicately stood on her back legs to sniff my hand and placed a tiny paw on my finger. I stroked a hand over her head as my phone buzzed across my counter.

**Meeting. Fuck. I hate meetings. They're so fucking boring.**

I laughed and set the phone down. He hadn't really given me anything to go off of. I stripped down, regretting putting on my makeup; I always shower when I get home, anyways. I tossed my clothes into the hamper on the way by. On my way into the shower, though, my phone buzzed insistently again. I growled and read the text.

**So what are you up to?**

I sighed and flipped my hair back.

**I'm naked, Criss, and about to shower. Gimme a few minutes between texts, maybe?**

Hitting the send button made me giggle. Let's see him interpret _that_ one. I slipped in to the shower, rinsing all of the product off my face and out of my hair, thinking about the last time I'd been in the shower _with _someone. Damn. This was _not _a good day for my concentration. I shrugged it off and turned the heat up, letting the heat ease the tension in my shoulders. It was a soft, gratifying sensation.

Over the sound of rushing water, I heard my phone buzz against the counter and growled mentally. Just where the hell did _he _get off, texting me so damn much? I had to admit, though, it was kind of cute.

I sighed and arched my back, shooting JD a pleading look. He glared momentarily at me and then directed his gaze back to the _extremely boring_ speaker, a thin, half-dead looking guy whose name I didn't remember. God, my memory was going to shit. I glanced down at my phone, which was resting on the upper part of my thigh. I always text a bunch of people in meetings. It keeps me from falling asleep or making an ass out of myself. So far, only my pretty assistant, Nica, and my girl, Veronica, were responding. I had the phone on silent so that…well, so that my brother wouldn't take it, okay? Sometimes being the baby of the family sucks.

**Two new text messages.**

I grinned inwardly, still looking bored and half-awake on the outside. I usually do, off camera. I've had some very, very upset members of the Loyal ask me what was wrong when I wasn't aware that someone was watching me.

**Message from: Nica**

**I'm naked, Criss, and about to shower. Gimme a few minutes between texts, maybe?**

I blinked, trying not to look surprised. I…I've got a tendency to, ah, _notice _women. It's partially from one of the principles of magic, and partially…me. And if I've noticed one thing about Nica, it's that she'd be _very _nice to see in a shower. Or a bed. Or against a wall…

I shook my brain out mentally, wrenching it from the gutter, where Veronica had it to begin with. I was having a hard time _not_ having a hard time, if you know what I mean, and Nica wasn't making it any better.

**Gawd nica. Give me a boner why don't ya? **

Her expression would be _awesome_. She's very expressive in person, which is something you don't see in most dancers.

**Message from: Babygirl**

**You up for tonight, magic man? I've got some new massage oils I'd LOVE to try on you, and I KNOW how much you like chocolate…**

See what I mean? Bitch. She knew I was in a meeting, too. But I love her way too much to mean that…

**Up? Yes. For tonight? Probably. Geesus, baby, do you REALLY have to be so sexy?**

I sighed and flipped the phone shut silently, staring at the speaker and very carefully breathing a little quicker so I could regulate my blood flow. Might as well practice when there's nothing else to do. Not to mention, it's sort of embarrassing to stand up like that.

I've been practicing self hypnosis since I was about sixteen, and by this point, it's pretty easy to throw myself under. I got myself relaxed, tipping my hat down over my face and hoped people would think I was asleep. They usually did.

I relaxed slowly, letting tension momentarily ease out of my shoulders and legs; I was in a good position, with my ankles crossed and my arms over my chest. I heard JD scoff and realized he knew what I was up to. Sweet. He'd keep people from bugging me too much.

I pushed everything out of my mind, opening up the well of creativity I usually had to shove down and ignore so I could concentrate. It opened a door, making me gasp slightly; effecting me physically. I pushed the door all the way open, stepping through and looking around the world I'd created for myself (was it already here? What if, what if…). The surroundings were…familiar. Hell, of _course _they were familiar. Beings walked here and there, striding about and offering their thoughts to me as they passed. The ones that spoke murmured soft greetings and the friendlier ones touched me, allowing m y minds to brush with theirs. _I _was different; my hair brushing the lowest part of my back and my skin smoother, sleeker, my eyes darker. I wasn't so muscular and bulky.

I turned a half-second as a hand brushed across my back and something covered where my chest and shoulders had been bare. A shawl. Illusia's shawl. I turned to embrace her, trading a soft kiss against her neck. She made a soft, displeased purring noise and nipped me, knocking me over onto m back. I laughed and rolled backward with it, pinning her and nuzzling her neck. She _missed me. My Amystika creatures missed me. _Being missed is an amazing feeling…

We wrestled for a little while before I noticed something odd – we were on a bed of leaves. In Amystika. That made…no sense. Amystika was nearly always in spring or in summer. I brushed a hand over the side of her face lightly, sending the questioning thought through the touch; thoughts could carry over here, in skin to skin touches and over the wind.

I knew, of course. The beings in Amystika – creatures, cyborgs, robots, people, spirits, trees and flowers and the water and clouds – they were all ways for me to talk to myself; ways for my subconscious to let me know about my body and myself and everything. I made them as a sort of medium between myself and I. Amystika itself? My playground, my home court – the place where I test my thoughts about my illusions.

Illusia returned the thought in a flurry of visuals and worried feelings, making my stomach lurch. My fault. It was my fault that things were getting bad in here. Well, naturally it was my fault. My playground, my fault. I glared at the ground, feeling anger building just below the surface. I pulled her up, letting the sensation of how bad I felt pass to her. She became a cat at some point; the lines of her shoulders shifting and changing. It was a large cat, to be sure. More like a tiger with blue stripes instead of orange.

We walked around. I rested my hand between her shoulder blades, allowing thoughts and images to slide back and forth. They were worrying about me, and about the overwork, and about how I never came here anymore. I passed images back and forth about what was going on; about the theater I would be working in. She was pleased about it, though Tronik was a little upset and Usher was flat out displeased. I sighed and asked about the Sorcerer, how he was, and Kayala, and the family. They were all well. It was relaxing, walking here. Even as I wandered for a while, the weather became a sort of an Indian summer; the leaves looking better in the light that shone through the clouds. I noticed, vaguely, that I was still wearing a choker and bracelets. Wow. Work really _was _affecting me. Things like that were symbolic of baggage that I was carrying around.

We wandered for a long time, going to visit different the different parts of Amystika. I felt a light, ethereal touch on my shoulder and looked back, apologizing to Illusia. She purred, back thrumming under my hand. I let go of her, slowly sliding away from the place in my mind and locking the door tight behind me. I opened my eyes slowly, uncrossing my arms and stretching to look at JD, who was shaking my shoulder gently.

I stood slowly, letting the blood return to where it belonged. I glanced at my phone.

**Five new text messages. Two missed calls. One voice mail. **Crap…

"What did I miss?" My voice was rougher, deeper than usual. I'd been sleeping, sort of. Good for the body, if not for the mind.

"Just a bunch of crap that's vital to MF5 production. Seminar about the end of the world. Strippers," JD deadpanned, looking amused. I mock-glared at him and feinted a punch to his stomach, smacking him on the shoulder with the flat of my palm. He returned the favor, slapping his hand right on top of my right-side brand. I hissed a breath out through my teeth and stole his cap, tucking it in my pocket and jogging down the hallway on our way out. I felt better; more energized. JD came hauling ass after me and took my hat, stealing it off my head, along with his out of my pocket. I tripped him, catching him as he fell and pulling him into a nelson. Hah. There's an advantage to being bigger than your big brother. He laughed, panting and going limp and dropping my hat.

"Asshole." I laughed and scooped my hat up, tossing it up above his head and catching it. He glared and tripped me so I fell on my face. Just as a horde of photographers came around the corner. Great. I glared at them and picked myself up. _This _would go over well for my PR. They'd probably play it off as incest or something…

Me and JD got through them, wading and ignoring them. I was headed back to the Luxor, back up to my room, to get ready for a public appearance at LAX. I like going down there; it's a pretty nice place, and I have a lot of fun. Veronica likes it, too...Cathouse is more her thing, though. Sometimes I sort of wonder whether she likes girls or not. Damn, that'd be…nice, sort of.

We got out to the street and hopped in the limo, ditching the paparazzi pretty efficiently. I sighed and tilted my head back, stretching out. I _love_ limousines. So long as they aren't white.

JD glanced over at me, smirking. "What the hell were you dreaming about, Chris?" I laughed. He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. He knows a little about the things I dream of, and that's enough for most people.

I flipped my phone open.

**Five new text messages.**

**Babygirl: Criss? U there?**

**Babygirl: Meeting going well? What's up, baby?**

**Nica: Yuck, Criss. Really. YUCK. =P**

**Babygirl: I'll call you in a while…U r not doing another stunt, r u?**

**Nica: I was kidding, sort of…don't fire me!!! LOL.**

I sighed and texted them both back, letting Veronica know that I'd fallen asleep in a meeting and that I missed her, and yes, we _were_ on for tonight, and what she should wear and whatnot. I let Nica know that no, she wasn't fired, and that I'd just decided that the meeting I was in was the best place ever for napping. JD talked for a while about how well things were going back in East Meadow, and how Monster was doing, and how damn big my niece, Little Dimitra was getting. I flipped the phone shut, planning on checking the voicemails later. They were from Veronica, anyways.

JD looked at me closely. "How much you been sleeping, skinny?" Ah. Childhood nicknames. The bane of my existence.

I shrugged and stretched. "I don't really have all that much time for it….but another board meeting or two like that and I might just become narcoleptic." I grinned at him and yawned, stretching my legs out and crossing them at the ankles. JD smirked.

"Mom would hate that you aren't sleeping if she was here. She'd tell you to sleep more." I sighed and nodded, looking up at him with pleading eyes. "She's fine, Chris…" I nodded again, relaxing a little and slumping forward.

"Thank God." He nodded and touched my knee lightly. I smiled. "I'm just worried, bro."

"Hah. _You're _worried? Right. Cause, you know, mom's totally the one light herself on fire and getting hit by lightning and shoved down elevator shafts and all that bullshit." I glared.

"I'm not gonna break that promise, JD. You _know _I wouldn't ever break a promise to mom." I stared him down for a few moments, making sure it was ingrained in his memory. He sighed and sat back, crossing his arms over his chest.

"She still wants you to have kids, you know. At some point. Before you die of old age." I glared. I fucking hate being so damned old, and JD likes to rub it in. Heh. Like he's younger than me…

"Maybe. When I'm not so busy. I wanna be there…actually be there for them, and see them grow up. I don't just wanna be the stereotypical rich asshole father, you know, and like, never see any of their little-league games or miss their dances or try and push them to take over for me when I'm gone…" I trailed off, letting JD put it together. He was nodding at me, so I knew what was on his mind. It's been…about ten years since our father passed, and I was missing him. Terribly. JD took a deep breath and sighed, looking at the floorboards of the car.

"Mister Angel? We've arrived at the Luxor, sir." A polite kid in a valet uniform opened my door and offered a hand. I shook it off and climbed out, stuffing a bill or two into his hand for his policy and stretching my legs out again. My right leg was hurting like a bitch; singing a rather annoying duet with my fucked up ankle. I glared and walked into the hotel (we were at the back entrance) with JD just behind me.

"Your limp is worse."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious. Wanna point out the color of the sky? I might forget if you don't fucking remind me."

"You kiss our mother with that mouth, Chris? I remember that time she made you eat soap…" I chuckled. Looking back now, it was pretty funny. At the time, it sucked balls in hell.

"You remember the time dad kicked your ass for locking me in the closet and going off to school and then saying I'd run away to join the circus?"

"Remember the time you _tried_ to join the circus?" I busted up laughing as we got into the elevator. I run into people a lot on the elevator. I can't really help it; there's no real other way that doesn't suck for getting up thirty fucking stories.

I love meeting new people, but tonight, no one got on. I sighed and leaned against one of the mirrored walls of the inclinator* and sighed.

"I miss him too, bro." JD touched my shoulder comfortingly and I nodded, trying not to break down and fuck up my eyeliner. JD gave me a hug, trying to make me feel better. I pushed him away, grinding the heels of my palms into my eyes. Usually I'm a pretty physical person, but not right then, for some reason. JD nodded and pulled back, wiping under his own eyes.

The rest of the ride was pretty quiet, all the way up to my room, where I called Hammy and Minxie over to pet and love on a little bit. Minxie meowed appreciatively and nuzzled the back of my hand while Hammy twined around my leg, purring. It made me smile.

"You and your cats…" I glared at JD, who made a face at me.

"You're supposed to be the older, more mature one, bro."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious." I flipped him the bird, disguising it by brushing my hair back off my face.

"Subliminal messages, JD. Notice them much?" He laughed again.

"I have to get going, bro, and you have an appearance to make." I sighed and nodded, brushing my hair out of my face for real this time.

"Want a beer before you go?" JD turned.

"Getting drunk so you can go get drunk, huh?" I nodded, smirking. I like to be a little freer speaking by the time I get to LAX. "Meeting that girl, Veronica, down there?" I nodded again, now grinning. Damn, tonight was gonna be a blast. Actually, I was willing to bet that if I looked in my room, there would be a few special things sitting out already. Thank God for extra room-keys.

"You know…mom really likes her. Think she could be…" I snapped my head up and glared.

"I fucking thought JoAnn was _the one_, JD. And you know what? _She was fucking psychotic._ I will get remarried, _if_ I remarry, on my own _fucking time, _after a _long time with her! All right?" _ Things like this make me _really_ hate being so close to my family. JD gave me an unimpressed look.

"Alright, Chris. I won't bug you about it." I nodded slowly, glancing at the door. JD took the hint and left. I sighed, wishing I hadn't yelled at him. Wishing I could sleep more. Wishing I had some fucking privacy in my life. I glanced down at the tattoo on my ring finger.

I got up and stretched, letting Minxie cling to my legs and Hammy paw at the back of my other calf. They followed me into the little kitchen sort of thing in my suite, where I poured some milk into their bowls and grabbed a beer for myself. I took a moment to sit down on the counter and open it up and watch the kitties drink. They were purring happily, reminding me of Illusia. It made me a little sad, leaving Amystika. I took a long pull from the bottle, ignoring the taste. I don't really like beer very much, but it's pretty smooth on the way down.

I sighed and headed to the bathroom to shower, setting my beer back down on the counter. Warm, cold whatever…it all tastes like piss. I walked through my room and grabbed the vest and jeans someone (probably Toni) had laid out for me, smirking when I saw the little red box next to my pillow. I twitched toward it and then away; why ruin a perfectly good surprise?

I stripped my shirt and pants off, standing for a second in just boxers before wandering into the bathroom. My fucking bathroom is haunted, I swear. It's so damned annoying! I wake up every morning, after closing the door to the bathroom the night before, and there's toilet paper all over my suite, and the door is shut, and there's no fucking pictures on the little camera in the bathroom, and I get really fucking pissed off! (A/N: This is _true_. He actually does have a camera in his bathroom; it was on a sort of exclusive-ish episode.)

I shut the camera off and stripped off my boxers, climbing into the shower. I love the showers at the Luxor. They're fucking _huge_, and I swear, _designed _for…never mind. Basically, the shower looks like rock, it has glass door, and is right across from a mirror. How awesome is that?

Just then, though, I wasn't really thinking about how awesome the shower was. I just got into the shower and washed my hair out, reveling in getting clean. I hate being dirty. It's…gross. I relaxed, leaning against the wall of the shower and just letting the water run over my chest for a few seconds. Ugh. I'd had it waxed a couple of days before, and it was finally starting to not hurt. Chest waxing sucks…wait, no. _Waxing _sucks.

I washed my face and the rest of my body, letting conditioner sit in my hair for a while. Toni's good with hair stuff; she manages to get me stuff that smells good _and_ works well with my hair.

I shut the shower off and climbed out, wrapping a towel around my hips. I don't shave in the shower. I need a mirror. I leaned over the sink and shaved, getting rid of my wonderful "three day, not quite a beard but way more than shadow" fuzz. Heh. Ever since I grew it out a couple of months ago the crew gets pretty nervous when I skip shaving for a while. I never thought being a celebrity meant being criticized for facial hair.

I got the rest of the way ready, splashing on aftershave and cologne and putting on eyeliner. There was a quiet tapping on the outer door before I got my vest on. Who the hell?

"Criss? You here, baby?" Oh. Veronica. Wow…half an hour early? I smirked and skipped the vest, shutting the bathroom door.

"Just a sec, Veronica…You can come on in." I heard the quiet noise of the door opening and shutting again, and Hammy meowing at Veronica. He's so cute.

"Hey, Criss." Veronica come in, looking absolutely gorgeous in a black dress. Oh…her hair was straight. Wow. I'm used to seeing it curled, or wavy…she looks gorgeous, though, both ways. She was holding Minxie to her chest, which was pretty bare in the low cut dress; it was meant for clubbing.

"Hello, you…" I walked across the room to her and scratched behind Minx's ears, making him purr and nuzzle my hand. She giggled, cradling him on his back. He loves attention, but he's getting old. When I first got him he was almost full grown.

"Mm, you shaved…" Veronica ran a hand gently over the side of my face and I leaned into it, letting her slide a hand through my hair, which was still damp. She stroked her hand gently over my shoulder, tracing the brand on my bicep. I shivered. Her hand was a little cold; I keep my room a good five degrees warmer than the rest of the hotel.

Minxie decided that this was a good time to bat at Veronica's hair, making her laugh again and pull far enough away that I couldn't touch her.

"Tease. Using my own kitty against me," I accused, mock-pouting at her. She laughed and pulled a little farther away. I narrowed my eyes and judged the distance from here to the bed. Hah. Close enough…

I tackled her, making sure that I fell on bottom and Minxie didn't get hurt. The three of us fell lightly onto bed, with Veronica giggling and Minxie meowing indignantly. I smiled and petted him softly, clicking my tongue to get his attention and tapping on the bed to get him to look toward me. He glared and hopped down off the bed, tail in the air. I stuck my tongue out at him. He's adorable, but unforgiving. I waited until he'd turned the corner and then pinned Veronica, nuzzling her neck playfully.

"So now you've got me here…what are you going to do with me?" She laughed, rolling her hips against mine. I groaned. Dammit. We had to be at the club in just a few minutes…

"Nothing. Club." I had my face buried in the pillow, next to the red box. Veronica giggled, shifting a little against me.

"Aww, you're no fun, Criss." She ran her nails down my back slowly, making me shudder and bury my face against the pillow again. My hips jerked forward as she got toward the lower part of my back and she circled her hips against me provocatively. "No fun _at all…_" I wrapped a hand into her hair and kissed her roughly, sliding a hand up her thigh to the hem of her dress. She shivered and wrapped her legs around my hips, rolling over and mock pinning me.

"Veronica…" She kissed my neck roughly, teasing my collarbones and sliding a hand over my chest, down my abs, to run the tips of her nails on the skin just above my waistband. I rocked my hips against her with a quiet groan. "Tease…" She laughed softly, leaning up to nip at my ear.

"You know it, babe. Want me to quit teasing?" I nodded carefully, not quite sure what she meant. Veronica is surprising sometimes. "Okay." She slipped her hand into my pants, gently touching and feeling. I gritted my teeth.

"You're still teasing," I growled. She laughed and undid the fly, gently tugging them down over my hips. I shuddered, arching up to let her. "Veronica? We've only got about fifteen minutes…" Another laugh. She traced her tongue across the hair that led down past my belt line…

We walked into the club a little late; my hair was sort of half-assed and needed to be re…something-ed. I blame Veronica, who was clinging to my arm with a grin on her face. I strode into the club past Felix, who smiled at us and tapped his wrist questioningly. I smirked in reply and he shook his head exasperatedly. I could have sworn I saw him mouth the words 'kids.' The thought made me laugh.

I led Veronica by the hand to our usual booth, where my friend Tommy was already waiting for me. He was, however, devoid of a certain blonde I was used to seeing him with. "Trouble with Pam?" I asked, sliding into the booth next to him and kissing him on the cheek. We're cool like that.

"Yeah," he growled, turning to give me a quick hug and a kiss on either cheek before brooding over his beer again. Veronica settled down on my lap while some assholes took a few pictures. I buried my face between her shoulder blades and let _her_ do the posing. I love coming out to party, but the whole paparazzi ordeal? Not my thing.

They left eventually and the waitress brought me my usual. "You gonna do any entertaining tonight, Criss?" She asked, leaning close so I'd hear her over the rowdier club-goers and music. I nodded but put my hand up to make the maybe sign. She nodded and went over to tell Felix. I sighed. Bar magic is fun, but it's better when I set up for it.

"What's wrong, baby?" Veronica wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me lightly on the cheek. I smiled.

"Nothin'." She gave me what might have been, on a less appealing face, a glare. I smiled and gave her a gentle kiss. "I might tell ya later, babe." She glared again. I grinned. "Wanna dance?" I slipped and arm around her waist and she helped me out of the booth (fucking leg again) and we got out to the VIP part of the dance floor. It was a good song, something by Timbaland or something, and had a damn good beat.

We danced for a while, but she still seemed sulky, and I felt bad. Eventually, we drifted back over to the table and sort of just sat with Tommy for a while. Veronica was brooding. I sighed. Our relationship had been…rocky for a quite a while; like maybe a few months or so. I gasped as I remembered something.

"Hey, Veronica? You know about Believe, right?" I asked, whispering in her ear.

"Yes, Criss." Yeah. She was in a bad mood. I blanched a little, uncertain about asking her what I wanted to ask. Then again, it wasn't something I _really _needed to ask for. After all, she was my _girl_, not my taskmaster. "_Yes_, Criss?" Definitely snippy.

"We're also doing a traveling show. Like, to New York and Cali and stuff. I needed to let you know." She sighed.

"Alright. How does this affect me?" I glared.

"Just wanted to let you in on stuff, babe." She nodded and rested her chin in her hand. "Wh-what did I do, Veronica?" I asked, sitting a little closer to her and touching her waist gently.

"Nothing, Criss. Just nothing." I sighed.

"Baby, what's on your mind?" I asked, nuzzling the back of her neck. She sighed.

"Can we talk about this up in your suite?" I nodded and took her by the hand, leading her out of the hotel. Was she…? What the hell was this? I can't stand when women get like that for no apparent reason!

We got up to the suite. Veronica hadn't really let me touch her at all on the way up, and I sighed again as we walked through the door.

"What is it, Veronica?" I asked, my tone a little darker than it probably should have been.

"Just... I hate it when you're busy. And you're never there when I want to be with you, and I feel like we don't get enough time together…" I nodded.

"Okay. I've told you before, I'm doing good to get two hours in to sleep, let alone stuff like-"

"That's what I mean! You don't have time! You never have time, you're always busy!" I widened my eyes, making a confused gesture.

"No, really? I had no idea!" Sarcasm. Not the best defense against a pissed off girlfriend. She glowered.

"I think we should take a break, Christopher. A long one." She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at me. I blinked. A…break? What did she mean by that? Oh. _Fuck._ I looked back at her for a few seconds, trying to think of something to say. Maybe she was right. Maybe…we did need a break. I sighed, sinking down onto the couch and staring intently at my boots.

"Is that really what you think, Veronica?" I asked my boots. They're much better to look at than Veronica when she's angry. I always want to hold her when she's angry. My gaze traveled from my boots to my left ring finger. Tattoo. Matching tattoos. We'd gotten them together.

"Yes, Criss. It is." I felt a gentle touch on my shoulder as she headed back to my room to get her stuff out of my room and herself out of my life.

* The 'elevators' at the Luxor Hotel actually move at a slight angle, and are therefore called 'inclinators.' I found this out over the summer when I stayed there, but it was also mentioned in the "Skeptic" episode of MF:S4.

A/N: So, then end of a great first chapter. Sort of. But damn, do I have to do a lot of disclaiming now!

- There is _no_ traveling troupe for Believe. To my knowledge.

- To my knowledge, there are no people dressed like Monica in his show. I _could_ be wrong, I _could_ be having premonitions like I used to, but so far as I know, there are no faerie dresses in the show.

Peace! I hope you loved the release date.

Oh, and I have another myspace for my fanfictions. There *might* be some poetry on there about Criss, too. The URL is ceaseless_homage.

Love you guys!


	2. Mr Brightside

2. Mr. Brightside

I walked between the tables, delivering cocktails and appetizers, mainly. New couple at table five needed water, I noted, and made sure to deliver it to them promptly. I have to supplement my job as a dancer with a waitress job. At least it's at and interesting place…

"Pleased to meet you, is there anything I can get you nice folks tonight?" I took down their orders carefully on the little notepad. I headed back to the kitchen to drop off the slip. Diablo's cantina is a hot, hot little restaurant, inside the Monte Carlo hotel. Luckily, though, it lets out to the night air.

"I'm taking a break, boss." I called. She shift manager, Tina, gave me thumbs up and I headed outside. Outside is a sidewalk on the Vegas strip, and I had a full view of the city. I pulled a little pack of clove cigarettes out of my apron and lit one up, reveling in the flavor of the smoke. I love cloves. I can't stand regular smokes, though. I took another deep drag and pulled my phone out, sliding it open to check my texts. Hmm. One from Criss, explaining that I wasn't fired. Ha. I'd been joking. I smiled and checked the time. Twelve thirty seven. Shit. I'd gotten off work seven minutes ago. And Criss would be awake. I hit the send button and took another drag.

Three rings. "He-llo?" Criss's voice, but sounding sick. Or like he'd just woken up with a cold. I coughed out a lungful of smoke.

"Criss? You okay?" I asked. He made a quiet noise.

"Open to interpretation." I laughed. He chuckled shakily.

"God, dude. Fuckin' fall apart on me just after I get your number." He laughed a little louder, and I heard sniffling. "Were you asleep?"

"No." I waited, taking another drag off my smoke. "Are you smoking?" He asked finally.

"Yeah."

"That's really stupid. Smoking kills. Do you know all the shit that's in those?" He sniffled and I thought I heard the sound of something being set down. Maybe a glass or a beer.

"They aren't, like, Marlboros. They're clove cigarettes. Just tobacco and spices and stuff." I heard him cough quietly.

"They're still bad, though, aren't they?"

"Yeah, but there's no rat poison or anything in them, Criss."

"…there's rat poison in regular cigarettes?" I nodded, rolling my eyes. "If you're nodding, I can't hear it. Dork."

Man fucking _knows_ people. "Yes, Criss. There is."

"Ugh. That's…really nasty." Another sniffle-ish noise. I sighed. "So what are you up to, Nica?" His voice was sort of thick. I'd guess that he'd been crying.

"Just got off work, you?" There was a long silence.

"Hanging out in my room. I should be down at LAX, though…" He sounded a little guilty, like he'd done something wrong. "So how come you called?"

"I was just bored. And not doing anything. I…I will take you up on that job offer." He coughed again, though there might have been a laugh buried in it.

"I thought I told you to sleep on it."

"I took a nap." He sighed in a frustrated sort of way.

"Where do you work right now?"

"Diablo's, at the-"

"Monte Carlo. Wanna hang out? I've got a free night…sort of." I paused, hesitating. We'd be discussing the job, obviously. But…hang out with Criss? My boss? My hot, lots of sexual tension between us, makes my boyfriend worried boss? "I mean… not at my place. Nothin' weird. Just to talk." He sounded apprehensive. I tried unsuccessfully to remember his girlfriend's name, to ask what her reaction to that would be.

"I guess."

"Where d'you wanna meet?" I thought about it. Thought about what I was wearing.

"LAX? I don't know. Is LAX good?" He laughed softly.

"Yeah. That'd be great. Do I need to send a cab for you?"

"No. I'll be fine. See you soon, Criss."

"Bye Nica." I hung up first, snap-sliding my phone closed. Crap. Hanging out with Criss was going to be…weird. I mean, he's nice, but he makes me nervous. I…don't get to see Eric very often, and Criss is really, really unafraid of touching.

I ground my filter out on my shoe, dropping it into a deposit and walking back into Diablo's to let Tina know I was headed out. She nodded, looking vaguely annoyed. Eh. Wasn't at me, so whatever. I put my apron in my locker and grabbed my purse. I waved goodbye to everyone and headed out, walking out over the sidewalk. There's a monorail that runs over the Las Vegas Strip, but the Luxor is pretty much just around the corner from me anyways.

I walked down the sidewalk, reveling in the way the night air felt over my shoulders – I was still in the corset I'd worn after practice, but I had on darker, tighter jeans and stilettos instead of dancing shoes. I put my headphones into my ears and kept my back straight, eyes forward. There's a lot of dangerous places in Las Vegas, and though the Luxor is in the better part of the town, I didn't want to take any chances.

I made it to the hotel and smiled at the receptionist, who knew me on sight. She raised an eyebrow at me and waved me over.

"What are you doing here this time of night, honey? Criss doesn't have you working late, does he?" I shook my head, pulling my ponytail out as I did. Even among the other dancers, I'm pretty noticeable, I guess.

"No, no. I'm just headed to LAX to meet up with someone." She nodded, looking a little suspicious. She tends to be a gossip, so I didn't really want to tell her I was meeting Criss himself. I braided my hair back, waving to her as I walked away. I think it looks better in a low braid, anyways. It brings out the streaks.

I paid the cover charge and walked into LAX, glancing around for Criss. Crap. I really hoped he wasn't in the VIP section; I couldn't go there unless someone took me up. Nope. He was behind the bar, juggling tequila bottles. Weird. I walked over to watch, having to stand behind a throng of onlookers, who were whistling and catcalling.

"Light 'em up!" someone called. Criss looked up and called something behind him. After a few seconds, he set the bottles down in favor of flaming shot glasses. Damn. Manual dexterity, much? What a showoff.

I skulked near the back of the crowd, looking over everyone's heads. I'm 5'4", but in my heels, I'm 5'7". Most of the onlookers were women, so he was pretty easy to see. He caught sight of me (probably by my hair…) and stopped juggling, slamming all the shot glasses down on the bar and putting one out easily by popping the palm of his hand down on top of it and drinking it. He grinned at the onlookers and made a sort of 'come hither' gesture to me. I sighed and raised a questioning eyebrow. He nodded and I walked over, the sea of onlookers parting for me. The bartender opened up a little panel that let me behind the bar and I stepped over. Criss draped his arm around my shoulders.

"I'd like you all to welcome my guest, Monica Medina. Monica is a dancer from my newest project, Believe, a show opening up at the Luxor Theatre, and I would like to see all of you there, and soon! The Gala Opening is this Halloween, and tickets are on sale now. I'm waiting to see you all there, and good night!" There was some cheering and applause, and Criss hauled me out the back so we could go up a backside staircase to the VIP section.

We slid into a booth with a vaguely familiar, thin man in a white tank top and jeans. He had a top-hat on, which made me think of magic for a moment. Criss grinned at me. "Sorry for the surprise. Felix put me on the spot." I nodded vaguely, still trying to figure out who they guy we were sitting with was. He turned to look at me, looking more than a little trashed.

"Who's that?" He asked. I blinked. Oh. Tommy Lee, that was it. I smiled uncertainly.

"This is one of the dancers, Monica."

"Hi Monica." He smiled childishly at me and offered me a hand. I tried to shake it, but he kissed the back of my hand (sloppily) instead. I blinked again, trying to puzzle it out. Criss seemed a little tipsy, too. Had he been on the phone? It was hard to tell. He looked between us, smiling and lightly touched my wrist. I glared. He smiled.

"Do I get to kiss you, too?" He murmured, looking at me curiously. _So _totally tipsy.

"I thought we were going to talk business?"

The sentence sobered him up considerably. "I didn't know you wanted to get down to it right away. _Do _you want to dance first?" I looked out at the floor. I…love dancing. It's beautiful; every type of dancing. The bodies on the dance floor were pretty; undulating to the beat of some electronic song with a thudding undertone. Criss touched my hand gently and then, without much warning, pulled me onto the floor.

I have to give it to him – Criss is a good dancer. He pulled my hips against his, a little less than gently and ground against me. I pulled away, not comfortable with that offstage. He nodded, instead holding me close and dancing with me, front to front. It was…elegant. Pleasant. The song changed to something slower and he…held me. Wow. It was weird to be held by someone; I hadn't seen Eric in forever, months, and Criss was strong. Masculine. And holding me. He smelled like cologne and a little bit of sweat; maybe some soap under it all. I nuzzled his collarbone and he held onto me easily, hand pressing the small of my back. I felt something fall onto my shoulder with a slight _splish_… Was he crying?

After the song, we went back over to the table, his arm still around me. It was comfortable, and he kept it carefully above my hips. He sat down in the booth first, pulling me half onto his lap. He rested his head against my shoulder.

"I've had a rough night." His voice was lower and huskier than it would have normally been, like he was suppressing tears.

"I can tell." He nuzzled my shoulder.

"Wanna drink? It's on me." I considered for a minute or two and then nodded. He signaled something to a waitress, who, a minute later, brought me a lime daiquiri. Hmm. Interesting. I usually like hard liquor, but I sipped at it to appease him. He had a scotch or something that he was staring at rather intently.

"Are you gonna make it levitate?" I whispered, leaning over to his ear. He shook his head.

"If I was going to make it levitate, I'd do this…" He put his hands over it and made a little triangle shape. The glass wobbled of its own accord, and slowly, very slowly, rose up to meet his hands, going through the triangle he'd made. I grinned at the wonder of it, as he flipped his right hand palm up to catch the glass.

"Can I see the glass?" He nodded and handed it to me. I touched all of it (except what was in it), feeling for wires or string or magnets. Nope. Just a plain glass, shot glass with room temperature amber liquid that sloshed about just like any scotch in the world. I handed it back to him with a grin. "That's awesome, Criss." He nodded and drained the glass, offering it to me and swallowing.

"You can check the inside, too." I shook my head. His art is different than mine, but still beautiful. I didn't want to ruin it by finding out how he did it. He sighed and set the glass down.

"So what's going on with this 'idea' of yours?" I asked, pulling away from him and turning to him to talk easier. He rested his hand gently on my knee, which was bent so I could tuck it under me. He was playing with a patch on his jeans with the other hand and stared downward, in the direction of (but not at, I'd guess) my stomach. Criss has such weird body language.

"Not much right now. I pretty much have authorization from everyone for it; the only problem I have is getting a troupe together that's able and willing to travel." He was still staring into space.

"Really? But there are your fans, the Freaks or whatever…" I can never remember the technical term for his fans.

"You mean Loyals. They're Loyals. Don't call them freaks. And they're awesome people, but they aren't all actors or dancers or set builders." I nodded. Made sense.

"Some of them are. What about all the painted banners they sent in for you? Those were beautiful…" He nodded, looking a little more alive. I took another drink of my daiquiri. It wasn't so bad…

"Yes, yes, but they _aren't_ what I need. I need professional actresses and actors. Stage actors." I nodded in response.

"How many people do you need?" I asked, glancing at the dance floor again. I love the strobe effect.

He tipped his head back, removing his hand from my leg and placing it behind his head to stare up at the ceiling. "I'm not sure. I'm…I'm tempted to make it a bit like my old stage show, Mindfreak, but I don't think I could pull that off. There were only a total of…twenty or thirty people in the entire cast and crew of that show." My eyes widened. There were at least fifty of us in the chorus, let alone the actual mains and orchestra and lights and theatre people. A cast and crew of twenty?

He caught my expression and laughed. "Like I said, I don't think I could pull it off again." I nodded. "But I miss how…Intimate it was. I _knew_ everyone on my cast, by first name, and we were a...family." I smiled. He looked over at me again. "That's sort of why I have extra practices and stuff with you. I feel…more comfortable with you. Like this girl on the old crew, she played a doll, and you remind me of her a little."

"I remind you of a doll?" He nodded, sitting forward.

"You're thin and you move so gracefully, it's like you're on strings. A marionette. I'm not sure why I didn't just cast you as a Victorian doll. Probably the masks and your hair." I ran a hand back over my hair, which I personally liked. He smiled and reached out to touch it, but I drew back. I don't like most people touching my hair. He took the hint and leaned away again. "No, it isn't that I don't like it. It just wouldn't work for a Victorian doll." I nodded, sipping at my drink.

"I think that would be cool. Just a little crew like that. Well, maybe a little bigger. How many people would be on the stage at once?" I asked, watching him. He grabbed a little cocktail napkin and sketched a stage out.

"Just five or six were onstage at a time, last time. And there was no speaking." I raised an eyebrow. He sighed. "One of my bigger inspirations, Federico Fellini, didn't have much dialogue in his movies, and I loved it. It was…brilliant. Actions speak louder than words, right? Well, I just did the entire show based on the music – I had a friend do _all_ the compositions, and molded and fitted them to each illusion – and motion. No one spoke." I tilted my head. It sounded _amazing_. And beautiful.

"Are there any tapes of it?"

"Oh hell yeah. I sell 'em. And I have some private ones, like live ones that weren't so good, in New York. I'll show you sometime. Tonight, though, I was hoping to…have a little fun, more or less. It _is _good to get these ideas out, though."

"What sort of fun, Criss?" I asked cautiously. He blushed, flinching a little.

"No, no! Nothing like that! Just…what do _you_ do for fun?" I blinked.

"I go out on the town. Just look at stuff, hang out in Fremont. You know. That sort of stuff." He looked down at his huge, diamond studded watch. Freak. Rich, rich freak.

"Fremont's more or less closed right now…what would you do with a friend if he _wasn't _famous?" I thought for a moment.

"Well, I'd probably just go around town and fuck off for a while. But that's me…" He was hauling me up out of the booth and out through a back exit from the club to an inclinator. "What are we doing?" I asked, hurrying to keep up and clutching my handbag.

"I'm gonna go change, and we're gonna go do something fun. C'mon!" I raised my eyebrow impatiently.

"Criss? You're really weird." He grinned tipsily at me. I sighed. He's such a big kid at times, like when my phone went off during practice and he just pointed at me and started singing that I was gonna get in trouble.

"I know. But it's cute, so I get away with it." I glared more fiercely and he laughed. "I'm not seriously that conceited. I promise." He hugged me again, resting his chin on top of my head. "Thank you for…being here. And letting me hang out."

"Yeah, no problem. Do you…do you want to talk about what's wrong?" I asked tentatively. He wrapped his arms a little tighter around me and buried his face in my shoulder.

"Not yet. Not really." His voice was muffled. I sighed. Why's he gotta be so damn…big? Making me feel small and inadequate…

"I'll be here when you do, Criss." He nodded and shifted; the muscle and bone of his shoulders sliding and popping slightly under my hand. I stroked a hand down his back at the doors slid open. He pulled away, semi-discreetly wiping his face and taking my hand to lead me to his suite.

Which was huge. And very, very messy. I blinked, tilting my head. As did Criss. He glanced around, looking a little confused, then swore under his breath.

"I told them, the fucking room is haunted…" He muttered, jumping over a couch easily, despite his limp. I blinked again, uncertain what else there was to do. A tortoiseshell cat walked over to me and twined politely around my leg, nuzzling my knee. I offered him my hand to him and he licked my fingers curiously, standing on his back feet and purring. A black cat came running over to me a minute or two later, and I folded down to sit cross legged with them and play a little bit. They really were sweet kitties. I heard Criss making some noise from the farther parts of the suite, whistling and drawers opening and shutting.

Criss came out of his room a few minutes later, pulling a gray thermal on over his head. He was in regular, non-designer jeans with a hole in the knee. It looked _amazing_. His jewelry was mainly gone, except for a single, very ordinary dog tag chain with a cross and some other stuff on it, which he promptly tucked under his shirt. The thermal had a skull wearing a crown on the front. I smiled.

"You look good casual." He looked up at me curiously, pulling a belt through the loops on his pants. It, too, was regular looking, just a brown belt with a fairly plain belt buckle. I smiled.

"Thanks. I had to dig for this stuff." He stretched, then abruptly collapsed in on himself to sit and play with the kitties, who immediately went over to him, meowing their apparent love for Criss. I laughed. He smiled, laying on his back and played with them individually, making them meow and nuzzle and cuddle him for attention. He was so sweet, talking to them like babies and meowing back at them.

Criss glanced up and smiled. "Ready to go?" I nodded and he helped me up, hand pausing on my wrist. I tilted my head curiously. He looked up, like he was trying to remember something. "Do you have a tattoo?" He asked, finally.

I nodded. "I have a bunch. Which one were you thinking of?"

"I have no idea. I just couldn't think of whether or not you did." I nodded again. Like I said, Criss is weird.

"You and Veronica have those matching ones, don't you?" I would never understand his devotion to Veronica. It isn't that she's a bad person, but he's…devoted. Almost obsessed.

"Yeah…" His voice was quiet and he stared down at his hand for a second, looking thoughtful. Sighing, he pulled his wristband so it looked like a fingerless glove. "Ready?" I nodded and we walked over to the door. He grabbed a green jacket out of the closet and pulled it on, not bothering to button it and undoing the sleeves so he could keep his wristband on. I followed, pulling my purse up. He grabbed my hand unexpectedly, twining fingers with me and holding me a little closer than I was used to. I shrugged it off. He stared down at my shoes; stiletto boots over my skinny jeans. "You gonna be okay to walk around in those?" I nodded.

"I walk around in them all night at work." He nodded and we walked out to the inclinator, his hand still annoyingly twined with mine. I sighed. Oh well.

"So what are we gonna do?" He asked, stretching. It _had_ to be near two or so in the morning.

"Not sure. I guess we'll just play it by ear." Not like I had any better plan.

* * *

I followed Nica onto the monorail, still holding her hand and standing close behind her. It'd been a while since I'd been on the monorail. She stayed standing, so I just held onto her. I was feeling…numb. Veronica had been…my life. My lover, my friend, my confidant. Before Nica had called, Veronica had been packing up her stuff, taking it with her using one of my duffel bags. I had just sort of…watched, not sure what else I could do. It was horrible; I hate feeling helpless or like something is beyond my control like that, but…yeah. I couldn't have done anything, anyways.

When Nica had called, I'd just been trying to sort out what to do, sitting on the couch with my knees up to my chest. She was being amazing, letting me cling to her when I needed it. I wanted to nuzzle her or kiss her on the cheek, but I knew I was pushing it as things were. We were on the way to Fremont, one of her apparent usual hang outs.

"Criss?" Her voice was quiet, and it drew me out of my reverie, tantalizing me away from thoughts of Veronica.

"Yeah?"

"You okay?"

"I will be."

"I'm still here if you want to talk about it." I did nuzzle her, wrapping both arms around her waist and burying my face against her neck, to the side of her braid. She squeaked, squirming uncertainly. I sighed and pulled back, looking around the empty monorail car. There was nothing interesting in it, really, but it gave me something to do and Nica a moment to right herself. I feel bad for her; long distance relationships suck. A lot.

I sat down instead, examining my nails under the false light. Nica sat down next to me, but a seat away. She looked over at me carefully. "_Do_ you want to talk about it?" I sighed, looking down at the floor. I guess we had a pretty long ride, seeing as she was comfortable enough to sit down. I rested my elbows on my knees, looking down at my fingers and the shape they made when I rested all my fingertips together. It was a position that lent itself to meditation; reflection. My hair was falling forward into my eyes a little.

"Veronica…Veronica said that…we need to take a break. I'm too busy for her taste, I suppose…" My voice was startlingly quiet, barely audible even to me.

"Oh…" I guess it was fine for her. I kept my head down and talked close to her ear.

"And from my experience, that means…it's over. Like, for good." She rested her hand gently on my shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Criss." Her voice was quiet; not the normal quiet it usually was, but a sort of emotional quiet, like she really did care. I sat back up, blinking. There was more on my mind, the nagging of it driving me crazy. I sighed. I really, really needed some time off. Or some time away. Or sleep. I shook my head. "Criss?"

"I'm fine. There's other stuff, but I'd rather keep it private."

"So long as you'll be alright."

"I will be."

"Good. And this is the stop." I stood and got off with her, following her down the escalator.

Nica took off across the square; tackle/hugging a man with no shirt that had been, until he saw her, playing with a torch. He hugged her back, shifting his weight to catch her. I followed a little slower, watching them warily. Nica stood back to talk to him, smiling and laughing and joking. I continued to walk, over-conscious of my limp and how noticeable I was.

"…Eric and you?" He finished as I got into hearing distance. I blinked, trying to figure out what he had been saying before. Oh well.

"Yeah. He does. But it's…weird. Oh, hi, Criss!" Nica said. I smiled, sort of, wishing she would have called me something else. Her friend looked up curiously.

"This is the famous Criss you talk about?" He asked, looking me over. Nica nodded. He was about my height, but his arms were more corded, with muscle from work, not the gym, and he had a lot of burn scars on his forearms. I shook his hand and nodded at him, looking him in the eyes.

"Criss, this is Shade. Shade, Criss." Shade. I blinked. Weird name; probably a nickname.

"Pleased to meet you, Shade." Shade was..formidable looking, now that I examined him. His skin was a little darker than mine and he had obvious tattoos; one looping over his shoulder and neck and appearing to go down his back. It looked like ivy, but…darker. Sharper. It reminded me of Amystika. His eyes were yellowish gold, surprisingly, and his hair was about the same color as mine. It was held back into a ponytail that fell between his shoulders. He looked…Native American? Either way, he was suspicious of me.

"And you, Chris." Huh. He pronounced it in a way that made it totally fucking clear he had no reason to respect me, making me bristle under the pressure of his grip. Nica glanced at him and then back to me cautiously; she has a pretty good understanding of what's going on around her, and I was positive she noticed the shift in mood. I narrowed my eyes slightly at him. He dropped my grip and I pulled back, not quite willing to trust him.

"So…what you guys wanna do?" Nica asked, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket. Shade made a face at her, and I glared.

"I've got stuff to do, Tenji." Tenji? Japanese for something. I stared at the ground, trying to remember. Eh. Whatever. Nica gave Shade a hug and he packed up some stuff around him to head off as she lit up a cigarette with a sliver Zippo the she produced from…somewhere. It vanished into her purse as the cherry appeared, glowing red in the twilight of Fremont. I turned away, anticipating the smell, but the smoke smelled like incense. She took a deep drag off it and relaxed, exhaling slowly. I watched with a morbid sort of curiosity. Cigarettes are terrible for you, but try as I might; they're still sort of sexy. The kind she had was slimmer and black, making it look more graceful in her hands. Her nails were black with silver tips, and naturally long. I wondered how she danced with them. She smoked her cigarette in silence as we watched the show on the ceiling of Fremont. It was entertaining to say the least. Technology will never fascinate me the way humans do, but it _is_ pretty.

"Do you wanna…I don't know, go get a drink or something?" Nica asked, exhaling smoke and rubbing her arm nervously. The smoke hovered around her and she reached up to swirl it around her finger. It seemed to oblige, wrapping around her wrist and forearm. I blinked. Apparently, I was a little more drunk than I thought. She waved it away, looking at me imploringly.

"What do you usually do?" _I just don't wanna go back to the hotel…_

"I don't know…Usually I'm with Shade or one of my other friends…"

"So I'm not a friend?" She shivered, looking sulky, and took another drag off her smoke.

"You're my boss." She exhaled the words slowly, breathing smoke out with the words. The smoke didn't behave like a cloud of cigarette smoke should have. Instead, it curled like raw silk and twisted around her braid and back.

"I can't be your friend, too?" She shrugged, looking agitated. I reached over for the cigarette, which was almost gone.

"Yeah. You can. But…wait, you want a drag?" I nodded, continuing to hold out my hand. She handed it over, careful not to burn me. Heh. Like it'd bother me that much.

I took a drag off it, inhaling the smoke slowly. It burned like cigarette smoke normally would and I almost coughed, handing it back to her. Instead I relaxed, telling myself the smoke was normal, and good for me. It worked, letting me savor the way the smoke felt and smelled. I closed my eyes and rocked back, remembering some…other smoke I'd had. The memory made me grin and I exhaled slowly, thinking about concerts and an old roommate and all the crazy shit we'd done together.

"You like it?" She asked, taking a final drag off it and grinding it out on her boot. Damn. I had been tempted to do a trick with it.

"Sort of. It brings back memories." She laughed, walking over to a trash can with an ashtray on top and dropping the butt into it. I followed, feeling a little bummed that we weren't really…doing anything. She smiled. The ashtray was in front of a liquor store.

"Hang on." She went in and I loitered near an alley, praying there was no one in there. Nica came out a minute or two later, tucking something into her messenger bag and bringing out a bottle of Coke. I tilted my head. It was an almost empty one liter. She looked around for me and I tapped my foot, catching her attention she walked over to me and pulled a bottle of schnapps out of her bag, smirking.

"And that is for…?" I raised an eyebrow, crossing my arms.

"Presumably drinking. However, it's also a good accelerant. Why?" I laughed and she poured the schnapps into what was left of the coke, dropping the bottle into the trash. She offered me the bottle and I took a drink, savoring the way it burned my throat. Peppermint schnapps. Interesting choice. It tasted good mixed with coke, though. She took the coke bottle back and took a drink, smirking as she did.

It was an icebreaker, I guess, because she laughed softly. "It's weird, hanging out with you." I nodded and she passed me the coke bottle again. I waved it away. I'd had a shot before she'd shown up at LAX. I hold my alcohol well, but a pretty girl and alcohol aren't always a good combination. She shrugged and put the bottle back in her bag, capping it tightly.

"Do you always get drunk with friends?" I asked, taking her hand again. She twined her fingers with mine more willingly this time.

"No, but it's a good way to relax." I nodded, wondering how the hell her fingers were cold. We walked for a while in Fremont, looking at the stuff in the windows and commenting on it. My mind was elsewhere.

"Let's get on the monorail again." I nodded, following her to the station. She was a little livelier, bouncing on the balls of her feet. She smiled and turned to me. "You should do a trick while we wait." She nodded, smiling mischievously at me.

"Alright, alright…" I fished a coin out of my pocket and she looked it over, smiling still and tilting her head this way and that. I did an easy palming routine while we waited. Nica's expressions were amazing; she was a really good audience, except for the touching. She was becoming a little less inhibited now, holding my wrist to look at my palm and reaching around my waist to touch my other hand. I laughed, stumbling a little. She laughed to and just clung to my waist for a second, smiling and giggling in a tipsy way. "You're pretty cute when you do this."

"You're just…pretty cute." I laughed, sliding a hand down her back. The monorail arrived, preventing me from stealing a kiss, though. Probably a good thing.

She let me hold her on the ride back to the Luxor. We stood in front of the hotel for a minute or two, just looking at the pyramid.

"What does levitation feel like?" She asked quietly, still holding onto me. I thought for a moment.

"It's amazing. Like…the feeling you get when you've just performed really well, but combined with really, really good sex." She laughed quietly. I smiled. "That's what it feels like to _me_ anyways. I don't know what it's like when someone is levitating you."

"Let's look at the lights…" I nodded, following her up an escalator that had shut down hours ago. There were a few people out on the strip, and some minimal traffic, but we were alone for the most part. We got up to the walkway between the two buildings and she leaned over, looking at New York New York. I held her from behind, cuddling her for a second and hoping she wouldn't be offended. I'm very comfortable with touching people, and with being touched, but not everyone else is. Monica leaned back and looked up at me. "We should do this more often." I nodded and kissed her on the forehead.

It had been a good night.

* * *

I woke up on an unknown surface with a headache and with my mouth apparently stuffed with cotton. I started to sit up, but my stomach led a violent revolt and I gagged, shuddering to an upright position long enough to ascertain what was going on. Oh. I was in Criss's suite, on the couch. There was a bottle of Gatorade next to the couch, along with a trashcan, apparently mean for vomit. Or something. I sat up slowly, holding down whatever was left in my stomach, and took stock of myself. My shirt was twisted, exposing my chest, but still on, and I had my pants on. Okay. I twisted my shirt around so I was decent and slowly stood up, stretching warily. My hair had been taken down, at some point, and all the streaks were braided, making it look chunky. Appealing, though. I glanced around, wondering where Criss was. On top of my purse, which had been next to the couch, was a note.

_Nica_

_I had to go to the gym and stuff. Leave whenever, or stay or whatever. Thanks for letting me chill with you last night_

Below was a messy signature and a little rendition of his symbol. I shrugged and crumpled the note, stuffing it in my purse for further contemplation at a later time. I sighed and went through my purse, discovering that everything was there, and grabbed my phone to text Criss, to let him know I was leaving. The little tortoiseshell cat came and twined itself imploringly around my ankle. I knelt to pet it, leaving the message half-typed and looked around for my shoes. The kitty batted insistently at my hair. I petted him and he meowed contently, reminding me of Trina. I made a mental note to feed her extra treats when I got home.

I located my shoes and pulled them on, looking around the suite curiously. It was cleaner now than it had been last night. Weird…

I sent the text and gave my purse a cursory glance-through to make sure everything was there again. Yep, right down to my lipstick. I slipped out the front door, closing them behind me and hoping that they'd lock. I got partway down the hall and was checking my messages, meaning my head was down, when I hit something. Ow. I looked up, rubbing my head a little.

"Hi, Nica. I see you're awake now." I blinked. Criss, looking sweaty and bulky and odd in a tank top; his brands ridged along his skin, was staring down at me. I'd run into him.

"Oh, hi."

"You alright?" He rested a hand cautiously on my shoulder. I nodded.

"I'm gonna go back to my house and shower off before practice. See you later." He nodded and brushed past me.

The next couple of weeks passed in a comfortable way – Criss and I spent time together when he could and I had time off work; I slept a little less, but not drastically so. Practice, of course became more intense; Criss dropped the individual practices with myself and the other dancers.

Eric was thinking he'd come up for the gala opening, too. I was pretty excited about that. The only person that seemed displeased, though, was Criss. He was quieter and quieter as time went on, though with a little prodding, he'd open up. Slightly.

We were up in his room one night watching a movie. He was braiding the purple streaks in my hair slowly into tiny braids; threading in little silver beads that jingled whenever I'd move. He'd been persuading me to leave them like that for the gala and I was thinking about it. We hadn't really hung out other than that that week and I'd missed him. My shirt was velvety and he would occasionally run his hands over my shoulders and down my back, stroking his fingertips across the cloth before returning to my hair again. He loves tactile sensations.

"So what's up with you, Criss?" I asked his knee. He shifted a little bit.

"Not much."

"Nothing planned?" He paused to thread on a silver bead, his fingers moving deftly as he twisted it into my hair and clipped the little clasp in. He loosened my clippie and pulled down some more of my hair to braid it.

"I have an appearance to make for tomorrow and I'm having issues finding a date for it." It was the largest collection of words he'd said all night. I watched Adam Sandler flip someone off for some reason that was beyond my scope of caring and leaned back. Criss shifted again to accommodate me. He was braiding my hair quickly, holding a clasp in his mouth. His eyes were shut lightly, like he was thinking.

"You? Having trouble finding a date?" He laughed and opened his eyes to smile down at me.

"I'm not over Veronica yet." I nodded and he gently nudged my head forward. He worked busily at my hair for a few minutes and I let him; the rest fell in an ebony and violet curtain around me. He finished braiding the last part of it and gently massaged the back of my neck for a second before I pulled away. I _hate_ massages. He sighed.

"I wanna cigarette. Are you watching this?" He shook his head and helped me up.

"Let's go down by the pool." I nodded, my hair jingling. It made me laugh. I pulled it back into a bun and clipped it up. Some of the braids escaped or lopped awkwardly and Criss's eyes widened alarmingly and I gasped and patted my hair.

"What? What's wrong?"

"It looks really good like that." I walked over to the bathroom curiously to look in the mirror.

* * *

I stood behind Nica and looked in the mirror as she fixed her hair and preened a little. She looked amazing like that; her hair was bright, bright purple (I have no idea how she maintains it) and her eye shadow was a gorgeous, India-ink bluish black color and flared away from her eyes and lids like a kabuki dancer, making her dark eyes look even darker. She fixed her hair, making the braids stand a bit more, and brushed her bangs a little more over her eyes. I touched her shoulder lightly. She had on a low cut velvet wrap top with a silk gypsy-style skirt and boots. I envied her boyfriend. Monica is so damned…_exotic._ She looked at me in the mirror and smiled, flashing white teeth. I smiled in response and glanced at my own reflection. It didn't show anything I didn't know – my hair was slightly disheveled and I had a day or two's stubble; I was in jeans and a wife beater tank top that didn't conceal the fact that I should probably have my chest waxed again soon. I looked tired, above all, and my eyeliner was a little messier than it should have been. I pulled my necklace out from under my shirt. Nica continued to look at me, her eyes traveling slowly down my reflection to pause at my eyes; my lips; where my throat met my chest and down to my hips. I rested my hand lower, on her hip, and slid my other arm around her from behind. She stiffened. I sighed and pulled my hand away and the bells on the sash of her skirt jingled almost apologetically.

I'd been debating asking her to come with me to a red carpet thing tomorrow. Just as friends, naturally. That was what she seemed to see me as. I scratched nervously at the inner part of my wrist under its wristband. She turned and gave me a look asking me to back up a bit. I walked back to my room and she followed, grabbing her purse.

"So, Mister Magic, join me for a smoke?" I smiled and grabbed my green jacket and we left my suite, petting Hammy and Minxie on the way out. She leaned against me in the inclinator, stumbling a little as it moved sideways. I rested my hand on the back of her neck.

We walked though the hotel calmly, ignoring everyone, and walked out to the place by the pool. It was around eleven and there was a long line for LAX; I'm amazed no one came over to take pictures or ask for a signature. We got out by the pool and she produced her cigarette case and Zippo and lit up, taking a deep drag and relaxing against the wall. I leaned against the wall next to her, letting the warm Vegas air envelope me like a blanket. My eyes fluttered shut slowly and I relaxed entirely, sliding down to sit with my legs a little apart and my head tilted back.

I smoked my cigarette slowly, wondering what was up with Criss. He looked asleep, but his breathing was wrong and his eyes were already in REM mode. I finished my cigarettes and stashed the butt in my purse for later disposal. Crouching down in front of him, I rested my hands on Criss's knees.

"Hey, you alright?" He mumbled something in Greek or gibberish and I relaxed a little. At least he wasn't dead or something. Oh well. If he wanted a nap, then whatever. Let him have one, I suppose. I rested back on my heels next to him and rested my head on his shoulder. The more I got to know him, the better I liked him. It was…confusing. Eric was starting to notice, too, that I was spending time with someone else. I pondered all of this and brought my Zippo out again for a second. I lit the tiny flame and pressed will into it, watching it grow and glow and swell until it could sustain itself. It was a trick Shade had taught me; one that requires pretty intense focus. Shade is…something else. Someone else. Something different entirely, from anyone I'd ever met.

I tucked the Zippo into my purse, cupping my other hand carefully around the other little flame. It was easier to do now than it should have been. I looked suspiciously at Criss, whose head was now resting on his own shoulder. He was murmuring something in his sleep or meditation or whatever it was he was doing. Was it him that was making it easier? I shrugged it off and looked at the little flame in my hands.

I guess I come from a pretty long line of freaks. Not that I'm sure. I just think I might. Going on looks alone, most people say I look gypsy or Mexican or something. I really don't care. I just like to do what I do. Shade is the one who noticed I had a little bit of potential. I let the flame pool in my hands and flow; ebbing in time to the pulse of my heart. It slowly slid across the color spectrum; from sunset orange to lemony yellow; white to blue to green to purple. It lingered at purple and the heat was more intense. I pictured it growing and it did, spilling over the edges of the bowl of my fingers and dissipating to nothingness when it stopped touching my skin. I let it flow up my arms and momentarily illuminate my skin. It lingered at my wrists, brightening with my pulse and slowly fading and making my veins tingle. I laughed quietly at the sensation, just before I came aware of Criss, who was staring at me. The flames vanished entirely, leaving nothing but nothing behind and coating me with a fine layer of dust.

"That….was cool." Criss's voice was a little thick from sleep and his eyes were wide. He looked a little terrified, or surprised, or something. "How'd you do it? Chemicals?" He grabbed my wrist and began examining it, turning it over and looking at my palms and fingers and wrists.

"Just something Shade taught me." _And told me not to show anyone…._

"How's it done?" His voice was intense, like he _needed_ to know. I pulled my wrists away from him.

"It's sort of a secret…" He nodded silently, looking defeated. I relaxed against the wall again. "Good nap?"

"Sort of." He rested his arms on his knees and his forehead on his arms, looking sad. I stroked a hand over his back, hoping to make him feel better. He arched into it a little and I smiled. "Are you busy tomorrow night?"

I checked through my mental calendar. Nothing of any real importance. "No, but aren't you?"

"Well, yeah, sort of. I was wondering, would you like to make some extra money?" I bristled. Where was this leading?

"Depends, what am I doing?" I asked, removing my hand and looking at him intently. He raised his head off his arms and looked up at me.

"Just going with me to this red carpet thing. As a fake date. All you'd have to do is dance, and maybe kiss me." I blinked, turning it over in my mind.

"How much money do you mean?" He shrugged and named an hourly rate that made my brain spin. Hell yeah, if all I needed to do was dance and drink and laugh a little. "Yeah, okay. What do you want me to bring to wear?" He rested his head on his arms again, a small smile spreading over his mouth.

"We'll get you fitted. A new dress; something pretty and everything." I raised an eyebrow at his statement.

"How? It's really late. Do you mean tomorrow?" He shook his head, sitting back up. I shook my wrists out, flinging the last of the sensation from them and relaxing my shoulders. Criss stood slowly, unfolding his legs and straightening them out under himself. It was a graceful motion; like a cat waking up from a nap. He held a hand out to me and helped me up. I took his hand and grabbed his wrist, reveling in the warmth.

"I have a tailor who could do it _now,_ if we wanted." I nodded. It wasn't like I had anything else to do. Criss smiled and held my hand, twining his fingers with mine, as he pulled his cell out and dialed a number. He talked quietly into his phone as we walked back inside, him in front of me. He pulled me toward the shopping part of the hotel, much to my confusion. We walked over to a hallway that told me we were either headed to Fantasy or Criss's shop, neither of which have I ever been to. He continued his murmured conversation and we sat down in front of a fountain. I rested my head on his shoulder and he stroked his hand over the side of my face, making me shiver and tilt my head up. He watched me intently, still talking to whoever. I shuddered and his hand lightly stroked over my neck and collar bone, which suddenly felt very, very vulnerable. His hand strayed away as a security guard came over.

"Hey, Criss." Criss nodded and stood, pulling me up with him. I stood dizzily. The security guard smiled at me.

"Hey. Just headed to the store." The security guard nodded and I followed Criss into a little office and makeup studio. He sat in a chair with the air of it being a favorite place of his. I glanced around.

"Is this your studio?" He nodded. He had gotten quiet again. I pulled my phone out and texted Eric a brief explanation of what was going on and shut my phone off so he couldn't call and yell. I flipped the phone shut and looked expectantly at Criss. "So am I posing as a date, or a girlfriend?" He looked up.

"It depends on what my PR people say. They have a lot of say in my life, actually. Your image is…a little hardcore for what they usually prefer me to have." I blinked. Hardcore? I just wore clothes I liked.

"How do you mean? You're…not exactly an Izod kinda guy." He shrugged and pulled at his jacket.

"If it was up to me, I wouldn't look like this. Before I got so….caught up in everything, before I signed on with The Firm, I looked different." I tilted my head.

"What do you mean, different?" He shrugged.

"Ever look at any of my old work? No? Oh, come on…" He grabbed me by the hand and pulled me through the back door to the shop, which was dark and silent. He keyed in a code on a small pad behind the register and walked out into the store itself. I followed him over to a rack of posters, all featuring…him. They were all somewhat different, and in some I barely recognized him. He flipped through them quickly until he got to a picture of what looked like an industrial teenager reaching for the camera. If I looked close, his facial structure and eyes were plainly Criss, though the white face makeup and skull-like eye make up made it hard to tell. I blinked.

"You had cornrows?" My voice was quiet. Criss nodded, looking the picture over himself.

"And an eyebrow piercing. He ran a hand over his own eyebrow, which, I noticed, had a very faint, slightly puckered scar. I blinked.

"Oh, wow. And your new people have you dress…like this?" He nodded.

"It isn't like I hate it. It reminds me of the way I dressed when I was a kid. But still, I do sort of miss being able to wear whatever I want." I nodded and looked at the poster again. He sighed and shifted all the other posters over it. I turned and looked around the shop, my eyes lingering on the Theatre of Magic pinball machine and a slightly frightening, very interesting and tribal looking statue. I walked over to it and looked closer. It was some sort of android. Criss followed quietly, even though he was in steel toed boots. Weird. I jingled at every step and whenever I shook my head.

"It was in my live show." His voice was quiet and thoughtful. He slipped an arm around my waist and rested his forehead against the back of my head. I relaxed and he breathed easily in time with me. _Damn _it. He was so easy to relax with; so easy to let my guard down around and feel. I sighed and he pulled back a little bit with a quiet noise of indignity.

"Criss?" someone called from the make-up studio. It was a feminine voice, and it sort of implored him to come closer. We walked over and he talked to someone I didn't recognize; a small woman who had a tackle box next to her and a tailor's tape in one hand.

"This is the girl?" She asked finally. I nodded. She walked over and took the scarf I had on for a sash off and started measuring me. Criss turned away, looking in the mirror at himself. He looked so…tired. It was partially the beard shadow, but I also felt like he was…I don't know, taking on too much at once or something. I smiled at him, but he continued to lock his own reflection in what could have been a staring contest.

"All done, dear." I looked down at the woman, who was scribbling something down on a notepad. I dropped my arms and Criss turned back around, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "Now, sweetheart, what colors do you like to wear?" I blinked, thinking about it.

"A lot of black, I guess…." Criss gestured for a piece of paper. The small lady handed one over, looking curious. He grabbed a pencil from on the desk and sketched out a dress quickly. It was floor length and looked vaguely exotic; there was a slit up the side to the upper thigh, nearly to the hip, and the shirt was separate from the skirt, showing maybe an inch of skin between. The shirt had grayish lacing in the front over the breasts, like a bustier.

"Like this. She should wear this." The lady nodded, looking at the dress curiously.

"Is it all black, Criss?" He shook his head and drew some lines on the paper, over the chest.

"This part here is silverish grayish, and the lacing on the sides it, too. It's lacing, though." She nodded again, taking notes.

"Should I keep her measurements on file?" Criss nodded. I glanced at the paper one more time.

"Uh, what shoes do I wear?" I asked nervously.

"How about those high heeled boots you have?" The lady shook her head at Criss's suggestion.

"No, no. I'll get her some sandals. What size shoes, honey?"

"Six, American." She nodded, taking a final note.

"Alright, Criss. I'll see you around five tomorrow." He nodded and they shook on it, him passing her a check as they did. I didn't see the amount. I wasn't sure I wanted to.

* * *

A/N: Hey, guys. Sorry It took so long for the update…I'm in school a lot, and in martial arts, and at work, and it all gets pretty time consuming. The next chapter is half-written, so it shouldn't be as long away.

I know, I know, I didn't mention the supernatural aspects of this fanfiction, or anything about Amystika, and I need to take a time out and explain it to those who don't know about it.

Amystika really is something Criss created, though it played a much, much bigger role in his live off-Broadway show. It's where the vignettes with the Surreal Family take place, and is shown in the beginning of each episode a s a desert. The way I portray Amystika is as a malleable sort of playground, and I'm sorry if it's a little difficult to get at first. No, I don't know if it's like I describe. Just think of it as a place in Criss's mind where he can escape to.

And about Monica? Her weirdness? That comes in later.

Peace love and rock and roll. Thanks to everyone who commented, and who's been commenting, and those of you who've been here the whole time.

xoxoxo

sleepless

PS- a note on how busy I am - I should be taking notes on Imperial Rome right now for my College History final. =]


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